The Periods of Being

Chapter XIV

Chapter XIV

    Julie brushes her hair with care and in silence, but Olive knows by Julie's sneaky glances toward the mirror that something is wrong. Julie's thoughts are drifting elsewhere.

     "Julie, is anything the matter?"

    Her lady's maid keeps brushing her hair as she speaks as if she is trying to keep her hands busy while her mind is busy itself.

    "I heard that ice can help with the swelling under your eyes. Would you like to try it? I can fetch—"

    "No, no," She intervenes. She signals for her to stop with the brush by raising her hand. Julie recoils the brush away from her untangled hair and sets it down on the vanity. She then proceeds to run her fingers through her hair to pull it up in a style for the day.

    "Are you sure? I don't mind," she asks as she twirls strands of her hair and pins it to the sides of her head.

    "I want to look as if I'm mourning for my husband, not for my dog." The words leave her lips before she can be aware of them. Her eyes fall down to the vanity where she finds the butterfly pin laying too close to the edge. She slides the pin to safety before she gazes up to the reflection of Julie. Her eyes are settled on the job at hand: to take another ruin Olive created for herself as the result of her grieving. Julie's lips turn white as if she is pressing her lips together to stop herself from answering to Olive's request.

    "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that," she opens up. "It's just been a rough couple of hours." A couple of days. A couple of months. Her sorrows run deeper than she likes to admit to anyone— to herself. She brushes the thoughts away as soon as they creep in and focuses on the pull of her hair.

    "Julie?" She speaks again. "I'm sorry about everything lately. I know I haven't been the best version of myself."

    Julie stops styling and looks into the mirror. Her eyes scan Olive's reflection, taking in her lady's puffy and red eyes and the grief coursing through her skin like a parasite.

    "You don't have to apologize for anything, Olive. You've done nothing wrong," Julie says in a tone that reminds her of Mark. She holds her breath as she listens to Julie to continue. "You don't have to apologize for your actions nor for your words. You are going through hard times and no one can tell you otherwise. Have they? Is this why you are apologizing? You shouldn't feel bad about what happened last night. You are grieving." Olive lets Julie talk, listening to the words that she needs to hear, but at the same time, not. But at Julie asks the question that no one has, her ears perk up:

    "Why were you in the maze?"

    Olive's throat tightens and she finds it difficult to breathe as Julie asks the question she has been trying to avoid. The only person that can get a hint of understanding from the whole commotion is Freya, and even then, Olive is the only one that can clearly tell the story. She doesn't want to, though. If she did, she can already see herself being driven to the nearest hospital to be checked and probed by a doctor, trying to figure out what is wrong with her.

     "I don't know how to put it into words," she half-confesses. "Can we not speak of it?"

     Julie bows at their reflections and pins the curled hair twisted in her finger to the side of Olive's head.

     "If that's what you wish." Her words are soft and solid like she is just saying this because it is what is expected of her. Olive's heart drops at this. Their friendship was— and is— never built on what is expected of them. Olive watches Julie finish pinning her hair in one of Julie's famous up-dos with a frown.